


One Night When the Moon Was Full

by pretentiouskneecap



Category: RWBY
Genre: Day 6: Atlas Ball/Mantle Battle, Fair Game Week (RWBY), Fair Game Week 2020, Fantasy Politics, M/M, atlas ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23251114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretentiouskneecap/pseuds/pretentiouskneecap
Summary: Qrow looked up, distracted again by how different he looked from the last time he’d given his appearance any real consideration. He had been told enough times that his red eyes were striking, and he believed that once it had been true, but as he’d aged the color seemed too bright against the pallor of his skin, drawing attention to the bags under his eyes.Today, though, with his hair slicked back from his face, their color accentuated by the matching jacket and the flush it brought out in his skin, he felt he could believe it again.He looked healthy, or at least something approaching it.Qrow honestly couldn’t remember the last time he could have looked at himself in the mirror and had that be true.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long (background), Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 145





	One Night When the Moon Was Full

**Author's Note:**

> For Fair Game Week Day 6: Atlas Ball
> 
> Rated T for Qrow’s language.
> 
> This is dedicated to everyone who liked or reblogged my preview and kept me motivated while I finished it and to the Whitney Houston version of Cinderella that I watched numerous times in the making of it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

After a few months of working with the other huntsmen, Qrow had noticed a few things about Clover.

The first one was that, even though Qrow wasn’t a big fan of the whole production that was the Atlesian military, he could admit that Clover was _good_. He was skilled as a teammate and a leader, able to read the abilities of the huntsmen and huntresses under his command with only a few minutes of observation and form a strategy that played to everyone’s strengths. He was adaptable, finding ways to complement Qrow’s own rather unique fighting style and read his movements after a handful of missions together. All of this in addition to how he wielded Kingfisher with the easy confidence of long experience.

The second one was that Clover was perceptive. He read Qrow well right from the beginning, casually bringing their conversations around to insecurities that Qrow had kept hidden away for years. That had bothered Qrow significantly early on- insult added to the injury of Clover’s semblance being what it was- until he’d come to realize one day, in the back of a transport truck, that Clover never used the opportunity to unsettle him or to push him farther than he was willing to go.

The other man paid him complements and commented on his strengths because he genuinely believed in what he was saying and wanted to offer his support to another huntsman. Over time, the very perceptiveness that Qrow had disliked so much at the beginning became a comfort, one of the many things he appreciated as he came to know the man better.

The third, and most recent, thing that Qrow had noticed was that Clover did not enjoy the public side of his job when it came to working with the Atlesian nobility, an opinion Qrow profoundly shared.

The other man was a consummate professional, but Qrow had noticed Clover avoided any interaction with them at all, if possible. He had a sneaking suspicion the Ace Ops leader had leaned on his rank or his semblance more than once to avoid taking the bodyguard missions that were in high demand these day, even though usually Clover wasn’t above taking jobs that might be considered well below his expertise.

Qrow didn’t blame him for it, he knew he would be doing the exact same thing himself if he were in Clover’s position, but Qrow was not Clover. Not by a longshot. And the behavior struck Qrow as rather out of character for a man who otherwise seemed to enjoy working with people, even with the wall of competent professionalism he maintained while on duty.

So when James collected Qrow, the kids, Winter, and the Ace Ops into the mission room to announce a charity ball to promote unity between Atlas and Mantle, and more strategically to extend an olive branch to Robyn, Qrow hadn’t been able to resist looking at Clover to see what expression was on his face.

The answer was none, which he supposed was unsurprising, although Qrow thought he caught a small downward twitch of Clover’s lips before the impassivity returned. The lack of emotion itself was telling, though, as excitement rippled through the other occupants of the room with gasps of delight escaping from a few of the kids.

Those gasps soon turned to horror as they realized none of them had prepared for such an occasion, and therefore they had nothing appropriate to wear. Weiss stepped in as James finished handing out assignments for the Ace Ops on the night of the ball and dismissed them, telling the kids and Qrow to enjoy it as a night off.

Weiss wasted no time before rounding up the group, ready to march them straight to a tailor she had known for years, who she promised would be able to do high quality work even with the short notice. Qrow huffed in amusement as she tugged on his cloak with impatience, turning around to take one last look at Clover before he was dragged out of the room.

-

More than a week later, Qrow surveyed himself in the mirror, smoothing out creases in the fabric and rolling his shoulders so that everything laid comfortably. Weiss’s tailor had really outdone herself.

The black shirt she had given him to wear was made of soft silk that shone under the bathroom lights, buttery against his skin and cut close so that it didn’t leave excess fabric but wouldn’t restrict his movements. The formal jacket she had made was a deep red to match his eyes, the swirling black pattern splayed across it reminiscent of a pile of scattered feathers. The design emphasized the width of his shoulders, tapering down to his waist before flaring out again, stretching lower to a length slightly below that of a usual dinner jacket. The way the fabric at the ends swung with him as he moved reminded him enough of his cape to give him a sense of familiarity that he appreciated. On the bottom, he wore black pants cut close to the leg with short black boots polished to the point of absurdity, accented with silver buckles toward the sides.

The focal point of the ensemble was the silver clasp around the button that held the front of his jacket closed, fashioned to look like the talons of a bird and attached to the inside lining of it by a silver chain.

Qrow looked up, distracted again by how different he looked from the last time he’d given his appearance any real consideration. He had been told enough times that his red eyes were striking, and he believed that once it had been true, but as he’d aged the color seemed too bright against the pallor of his skin, drawing attention to the bags under his eyes.

Today, though, with his hair slicked back from his face, their color accentuated by the matching jacket and the flush it brought out in his skin, he felt he could believe it again.

Qrow had never been a big eater, but the past few months of being in Atlas where food was never a concern combined with his sobriety had managed to fill him out a bit, taking him out of the almost skeletal gauntness he’d been in the past few years. And sleeping in an actual bed during semi-regular hours without having to worry about being attacked in his sleep for the first time in months had done wonders for his eye-bags, although even those hadn’t disappeared completely. He looked healthy, or at least something approaching it.

Qrow honestly couldn’t remember the last time he could have looked at himself in the mirror and had that be true.

A sharp knock at the door pulled his focus away.

“Qrow?” Weiss’s voice. “I have something to touch you up with if you’ve finished up in there.”

And then another voice, more distant coming from a few rooms over, although not for lack of volume. “Hurry up, old man, we’re all waiting out here!” Yang yelled, his little firecracker just as patient as always.

He moved to the door, opening it up for Weiss and gesturing her inside, presenting himself for her inspection. She looked him over a few times before giving him a pleased smile, and Qrow refused to admit to himself that her approval settled something uncertain inside him. 

Weiss reached out toward him, tugging at his sleeves to get them to fall into place and patting down his arms and shoulders, flicking off imaginary dust as she went. Qrow smiled to himself but held his tongue; it was probably safer just to let her do her work without comment.

With a final nod, she straightened, hands on her hips and critical eyes roaming over him.

“Okay, only one more thing and you’ll be all ready,” she said, uncapping a jar of light cream in her hand. Qrow eyed it with some trepidation and she huffed at him. “Relax, it’s just a bit of concealer, I’m going to dab some under your eyes to even out the color.”

He fought not to roll his eyes at all before he closed them, feeling her fingers gently pat the cream along the thin skin.

“Great, you’re all finished,” she said happily, and Qrow assumed it was safe to open his eyes again, “Paisley really did a great job with this outfit.”

Smiling, she wrapped him in a quick hug that had Qrow freezing up for a moment before giving her a squeeze in return.

“She had a good canvas,” he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows that turned into a laugh as Weiss huffed at him in annoyance, pushing away. He gentled his voice, “You’re looking very lovely as well, Weiss.”

It was true. Weiss had picked out a light purple-blue dress that fell around her like water, her hair in intricate braids at the back that ended in a loose ponytail curling down over her shoulder. She gave him a surprised smile that wobbled just a bit at the corners.

“You’re going to make me ruin my makeup,” she complained, letting just enough petulance into her voice to make the tease obvious. “Come on, it’s time to show everyone else and get going!”

Grabbing his wrist, she spun and tugged him out of the bathroom and through his current bedroom to the small living space where the kids were crowded on the couches and chairs. Eight heads turned towards them in unison.

Ruby was the first to break the silence, predictably.

“Uncle Qrow, you look amazing!” she said, squealing with excitement. The loveseat she was in practically vibrated with her repressed energy. Next to her, Yang was looking at him from her spot on the couch, and while Blake’s ears might’ve been twitching with amusement, Yang’s smile was the one that looked cat-like.

“Yes, yes, he looks great,” Weiss said impatiently, still hanging onto his arm, “But we need to get going _now_ or we’re going to be late.”

Jaune piped up from where he was leaning over the back of the couch, undershirt already slightly crumpled from the position. “Weiss, I thought you said you wanted to be late?” he asked, confused. Weiss huffed with impatience.

“Well obviously we have to be a little late, but we can’t be _too_ late, that would be rude!” She rolled her eyes as Jaune just blinked at her. Ruby punched a fist in the air as she sprung up into a pose, interrupting Weiss’ groan.

“Come on team, let’s go party!” she said, making to move toward the door.

“Hold on a second there, pipsqueak, we can’t go just yet,” Qrow said, and Ruby’s shoulders fell as she collapsed back into the seat with a sigh of defeat, “I have to take a picture of all of you before we leave.”

Silver eyes met his as Ruby rested her hand on her fist with a groan, “Oh, come on Uncle Qrow, when did you become _Dad_.”

“Hey, don’t blame me, it’s because of Tai that I’m doing this,” he said, shrugging, “If he finds out you all got dressed up for a ball and I didn’t take a picture, it’ll be my head he comes after.”

He pulled out his Scroll, directing Weiss to sit down as he pulled up the camera.

“Uncle Qrow, if we’re going to take a picture, shouldn’t you be in it too?” Yang asked, raising an eyebrow at him, noises of agreement coming from the other kids in the room. Qrow mirrored her skeptical expression.

“Firecracker, if I’m in the picture, who’s going to take it?”

Eight identical expressions of exasperation directed at him told him he’d made a misstep somewhere, although for the life of him he didn’t know what it was. He turned to Penny in question, the only one still smiling, beaming at all of them as she took in their silence. She looked from him to Yang a few times before supplying an answer.

“I believe what Yang was referring to was the timed camera function, which allows you set up the camera from a distance and take the picture after a countdown so that everyone can be in it!” she supplied happily.

Qrow blinked. “The what?”

“ _Ugh_ , Uncle Qrow, you’re so old,” Yang said with exasperation, head falling dramatically back onto the sofa. “Give it to me.”

Walking over, she yanked the Scroll out of his hand, quickly switching the settings around until a timer popped up in the corner of the screen.

“Sorry if I was too busy running around on _secret missions_ to get familiar with all the new technology updates,” Qrow protested. The twin unimpressed expressions Ruby and Yang sent him were all Tai.

Qrow remembered back when both of them were little, when even the mention of a mission had them listening with rapt attention, hanging on his every word. He missed those days. _Teenagers._

“Uncle Qrow, go sit,” Yang commanded, giving his shoulder a little shove as she started to direct them all into position so they fit in the frame. He walked over to take Yang’s former place on the couch at the edge by Ruby’s seat, leaving enough room between him and Blake for Yang to squeeze into before the countdown finished.

Standing behind him, Nora was bouncing excitedly, clutching onto Ren’s arm. “What should we say? Should we go with cheese or is that too predictable? Atlas? Ball?”

“Nora, I think it’ll be fine if we all just smile,” Ren sighed.

“Come on, Ren, if we’re doing this, we have to do it right!”

“I’m not sure I understand what relation dairy products have with pictures,” Penny said with a confused tilt of her head, looking down at Ruby, who went to explain before realizing she didn’t know the answer either and settled on an uncertain shrug.

“Ready whenever you guys are,” Yang said from in front of them, adjusting the Scroll’s position with a few more touches from where it sat on books she’d pulled off the bookshelf to get it to the right height.

“But we still need to pick our word!” Nora said, despairing.

“Did everyone forget that I said we have to go now?” Weiss complained from Blake’s other side.

Oscar’s hesitant voice chimed in, “I know it’s a little corny, but how what about ‘family’? It’s just- it’s nice, having all of us together after all the effort we went through to get here.” He looked around nervously, eyes falling on Ruby who smiled gently.

“No, Oscar, I think it’s perfect,” she said.

“Alright, family it is! Get ready!” Yang said, tapping the button and rushing over to her place on the couch, throwing her arms over Qrow and Blake as she sat.

On his other side, Qrow felt Ruby take his hand as the flashes of the timer sped up. He gave her a squeeze and relaxed, smiling helplessly right as the camera went off.

“Family!” the kids all chimed together as it flashed. They all held their positions for a moment to make sure the picture had taken before Weiss was up and gesturing at them all to get moving.

Qrow walked over to his Scroll, picking it up to look at the photo. He smiled wistfully as he looked at all ten of them together, reminded of the picture team STRQ had taken the night of their first ball. He’d have to send this one to Tai as soon as communications were back up.

“Qrow, are you coming?” Blake’s voice came from the doorway as she turned back to look at him, the others already in the hallway ahead.

“Be right there,” he answered, tucking his Scroll into his jacket and striding towards her, turning off the lights and shutting the door with a click behind him.

-

The builders of Atlas Academy had clearly designed their ballroom to impress. Built back in the days when the idea of the city as the Jewel in the Sky had been just starting to take shape, Atlas itself had been little more than the Academy and a few houses surrounding it nestled in the open tundra. The citizens of Atlas had wanted the ballroom to stand as a testament to the prosperous future they hoped Atlas would one day have, every bit as grand and shining as they envisioned their own future to be.

Even though Qrow preferred the stately, warm wooden tones of Beacon, it was difficult not to admire the sight of the ballroom set to its full glory. The room was entirely white marble, bracketed by columns carved with fine designs of flowers and ivy that soared up to meet the high ceilings. At the entrance to the room where they stood was a sprawling grand staircase for guests to parade down slowly as their names were announced. Beyond it was the large, open space meant for dancing with a raised area suitable for anything from a graduation ceremony to a full orchestra along the right edge. Decorators had arranged tables for mingling about the room, with plenty of seating for guests who tired themselves out dancing or needed to adjust a shoe.

The crowning glory of it all was the window at the opposite end of the space, one pane of glass spanning from floor to ceiling and taking up the full length of the wall. Through it was a view of the endless white of the tundra and the sunset over the distant mountains. The rays of dusk cast the room in a warm glow of orange and pink hues, the floor stones as reflective as a mirror and the entire effect of it all literally and figuratively dazzling.

Qrow knew, from a long-ago tour he hadn’t wanted to be on, that almost the entire room was original, left untouched from when it had been built except for the glass in the pane of the window. That had been replaced many years back when technology in Atlas had been skyrocketing, upgraded to a new type of glass that would automatically adjust throughout the day to compensate for the glow of the sun off the white of the room and the tundra, preventing the guests from having to squint.

Outside of the striking visuals of the room, the smell of foods hailing from both Atlas and Mantle wafted up from long tables set with labels, servers at every station available to provide the guests with a taste of some local delicacy and a thorough explanation of its preparation if prompted. As befitting a ball dedicated to the unity of both cities, the dishes were intermixed, although it was easy enough to see where each came from without even needing to glance at the labels. The Atlesian dishes were vibrant with color, made with dates and berries and everything that would never be able to grow in the harsh environment of the tundra. In contrast, the food from Mantle was made of hardier grains and starches, plants that could grow in places with low amounts of water and sunlight.

The cost of the ball had been kept impressively low for such a fancy event. Atlas Academy- run by James- had donated the use of the ballroom itself for the night, and the military- also run by James- had donated the security. Restauranteurs from both Atlas and Mantle had prepared the food for the event in return for a modest sum, hoping to entice new patrons from those who would be in attendance.

Even with his luck, Qrow would bet money that very few of the Atlesian elite would be trying anything new tonight.

Their group proceeded to the top of the staircase, Weiss handing a card with their names to the announcer waiting respectfully off to the side.

Qrow scoffed under his breath in annoyance. He had never been a fan of the pomp and scrutiny that came with any kind of Atlesian event. He caught himself as his hand raised automatically to run through his hair, forcing it back down. Better not to ruin his look before the ball had even really begun, although he had little hope it would survive to the end of the night.

Ruby preceded Weiss down the stairs with an awkward curtsy, Weiss yanking her up by her arm with a sharp shake of her head before gesturing her onwards. Blake and Yang followed together with the other four following behind.

When at last it was his turn, he made to breeze by the announcer and just get down the ridiculously-sized staircase, but Weiss’ glare told him she’d caught onto him and he so he slowed himself just a bit to appease her.

He took the time to cast his gaze around the room, examining who was here and who wasn’t.

Weiss had timed their entrance well, unsurprisingly. Important and influential people from both Atlas and Mantle had been invited, and there seemed to be a somewhat even mix of the two at the moment. There were enough people who’d arrived to start to fill up the space, although none of the guests of honor were there yet.

Also not surprising.

Qrow had expected as much. If he predicted it correctly, Robyn and her entourage would be first, late enough to make it clear that she was aware of the political game that was going on but early enough to show that she refused to play it the way Atlesian society expected her to. She also couldn’t be too late and risk undermining her own position by showing disrespect to the tribute the ball was intended to pay to Mantle.

James would be next, accompanied by Winter and the rest of the Council, he assumed, when enough of the guests had arrived that they would have a full reception. Last would be Jacques, wanting to show he was above all of it by coming when the activities were in full swing, so that everything would pause for his entrance.

Qrow _hated_ politics.

More importantly at the moment, though, was that Qrow knew Clover had already arrived. He’d probably been here at least a few hours already, assigned by James to be in charge of making sure things were running smoothly with the guests and touching base with security as needed.

Qrow had wondered, when he’d heard the order, whether James wasn’t depending more on Clover’s semblance than his naturally amiable charm to make sure the night ran smoothly. He’d looked at Clover to see if he was bothered by it at all, but if the man thought anything of his responsibilities then it hadn’t shown on his face.

His scan of the room was rewarded when he found Clover standing near one edge, currently in conversation with a few of the Atlesian guests, a champagne flute in his hand. As the announcer called Qrow’s name, Clover’s gaze snapped over to his and a grin split his face. Turning away from Qrow and back to the group, he spoke a few more words before evidently excusing himself, crossing the room with brisk strides toward the staircase. Qrow took the chance to get a good look at him as he walked over.

If Qrow thought he had looked nice, then Clover was stunning.

His outfit featured a vest of vibrant forest green that brought out the color in his eyes, with golden embroidery climbing across it in the pattern of leaves that wove in and out of the double lines of buttons down the front. Underneath it was a shirt in a soft cream color that contrasted with the warm undertones of his skin. It was, Qrow thought with idle amusement, probably the first time he had seen the man with his arms covered, although the shirt fitted Clover well enough to leave little to the imagination. The shirt’s fabric bunched slightly where gold bands cinched around his upper arms and wrists. He’d left most of his usual accessories behind for the event, but Qrow noticed the red tie around his left arm had been kept, tucked and folded neatly behind the band that had taken its usual spot with only a hint of the deep red peeking out from either side.

He reached Qrow just as he had finally gotten to the bottom step.

“Wow,” Clover said with a low whistle as he approached, “Looking good, Branwen.”

Qrow folded his arms, leaning back against the edge of the banister and cocking his head to the side. “You’re not too bad yourself, Ebi. How’s holding down the fort going for you?” he asked, jerking his chin toward the guests milling behind them.

“Nothing’s gone wrong yet, although that’s not saying much considering half the guest list isn’t here,” Clover said with a laugh. “If things go our way tonight, hopefully it’ll stay that way.”

“I’ll make sure to keep my distance,” Qrow said, aiming for joking and wincing internally when it came out a bit too serious. The way Clover’s gaze sharpened told him Clover hadn’t missed it either.

“Well I hope you won’t make yourself too scarce,” Clover said casually, in contrast with the way his green eyes pinned him down, “I, for one, would certainly consider myself unlucky if I didn’t get to see you enjoying yourself at all tonight.”

There was a weighted pause as Qrow tried to regain control of himself, still surprised by the fact that someone outside of his family wanted him around enough to actually ask for his company. “I’ll make sure not to go too far then.”

“Good,” Clover said, and the tension broke a bit as his easy grin returned. He straightened suddenly, as if reminded of something.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I brought this for you, if you want it,” he said, holding the champagne flute out to Qrow.

He was thrown for a second trying to figure out how to respond- Clover _knew_ , didn’t he?- before Clover continued, “It’s just got sparkling cider in it, I grabbed it from the kitchen earlier. You don’t have to take it, obviously, if you don’t want it, but I figured it might be easier to just have something to hold in your hand rather than have to fend off the waiters all night.”

Qrow took a second to process that statement before reaching out to accept the glass, astonished that Clover had taken the time to consider how to help him avoid the alcohol that was bound to be in great supply throughout the night. He had been dreading it himself.

He looked at Clover hesitantly, “The staff didn’t find it weird at all that you were asking for something non-alcoholic to drink?”

“Not really, I mean I am technically working, aren’t I?” Clover said with an easy shrug. “So I’ll be drinking cider, same as you. Let me know if you need a refill.”

“Thanks,” Qrow said softly, meaning it. He was rewarded with a smile.

“Of course.”

Clover’s eyes slid up and past him as a new couple entered the ballroom and their names were called. Clover sighed. “I should probably be getting back to make sure nothing has gone awry. Hopefully I’ll see you later?”

Qrow nodded, holding green eyes with his own before Clover turned to go.

“Oh, and Qrow?” Clover said, throwing a wink back over his shoulder, “I meant what I said before, you really do look good tonight.”

Qrow watched him go, furiously fighting down the flush that threatened to rise to his cheeks. He straightened up from leaning on the column, making a beeline for the tables situated in a tucked-away corner of the room. He _would_ find Clover later, but he was determined to avoid any unnecessary conversation until then.

He took up a post on the outskirts of the dance floor, keeping an eye on the kids and Clover, occasionally taking a sip of cider from the glass in his hand.

The dancing had started up in earnest now, a string quartet playing a medley of the lively folk songs of Mantle and the classically inspired melodies of Atlas to allow for diversity in the tempo of the dances. Yang and Blake had moved to the center, showing each other moves that managed not to fit any of them.

A short while later Robyn and the Happy Huntresses arrived, followed by James, Winter, and the Council, and then finally by Jacques, as expected. Jacques stood proudly at the top of the stairs as his name was announced, smiling and opening his hands widely in welcome as if he were the one throwing the ball. Entering behind him was Whitley, barely noticeable in his shadow.

With all the players finally in attendance, the political games began in earnest. The crowd had been mostly self-segregated into Atlesians and Mantleans, but here and there groups had formed with a mixture of both. Qrow watched with slightly more interest, taking into account who was talking to who, which conversations were going well and which decidedly weren’t.

One of the conversations featuring Robyn’s crew fell into the latter category. Joanna pulled herself away from the group abruptly, either unable to completely mask the anger in her expression or unwilling to try. She marched away from them with no particular direction until she caught sight of him in the back and changed course, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter as she went.

He looked up at her from his slouch as she set the glass down on his table with a decisive _thunk_ , folding her arms on the tabletop and letting her shoulders lose some tension. Qrow, deliberately forcing his eyes away from her cup, raised an eyebrow at her as she ran a hand through her hair, loose strands falling out of the style.

“Mind if I stay over here a while?” she asked, although the way she phrased it was barely a question. “We could stand in silence and join together in not talking to anyone.”

Qrow tipped his glass towards her. “To avoiding conversation,” he said. She clinked her glass off his in agreement, both taking a sip to complete the toast. Qrow internally thanked Clover again for providing the juice as a cover.

They stood there a while and watched the ball go by. Clover was still conversing with groups all around the ballroom, introducing people and smoothing over tensions. He was with James now, the General currently embroiled in discussion with Jacques and Robyn.

Qrow took another sip of the juice. He did not envy the man. 

As the night continued, the kids left the dance floor, having exhausted themselves into a state of starvation. The bulbs of the chandeliers had increased in brightness as the rays of the sun gave way to darkness and the white light of them made the room glitter like ice.

The nine of them went over to the food table so that Nora could horrify the servers, asking them for multiple portions of every dish. Penny had one server engrossed in conversation, asking her a litany of questions about every single food item available.

Ruby approached his and Joanna’s table at one point, coming over to drop off a plate with a few of her favorites for him to try. She talked with them for a bit, then gently hugged his arm before he shooed her back to her team.

A few more dances had gone by when Qrow’s gaze settled back on Clover once again, this time entangled in a small group of Atlesians and looking decidedly uncomfortable. On closer inspection, the group appeared to be a family, Atlesian nobles but not anyone important enough for Qrow to recognize.

The man had a broad hand clapped on Clover’s shoulder, fingers digging hard enough to crease the vest’s fabric. The older of the two women was on his other side, an arm through his with one gloved hand clutched around his elbow as she gestured to the younger woman with the other.

The tension in the clench of Clover’s jaw was enough for Qrow to know the other man wanted nothing more than to leave, although he was far too polite to do so. The younger woman looked mortified, staring resolutely at how the shiny color of her heels reflected off the floor.

That was his decision made, then.

He looked at Joanna, grabbing her attention before he pointed in Clover’s vague direction with his thumb. “I’m gonna go,” he said, and she sighed as she straightened up.

“Fine. I should probably go check in with Robyn anyways,” she said. “Thanks for the silence.”

Qrow shrugged. “No problem.”

Turning around, he walked toward Clover, putting more speed in his gait than usual. He skirted the outer edges of the dance floor, careful not to get too close to the twirling couples. The last thing he needed was a piece of swirling fabric to get caught on something, ruin someone’s outfit, and create a scene, as amusing as that might be in the moment.

As he approached the group, Clover’s eyes met his in a desperate plea. Qrow came up behind the man who had latched onto Clover, tapping his shoulder rather roughly.

“What?” the man demanded angrily, although he backed down soon enough at Qrow’s unimpressed glare.

“I need to borrow Special Operative Ebi, here,” he said, allowing a bit of snark in his voice, “Important military business. I’m sure you upstanding Atlas citizens can understand.”

He beckoned Clover toward him with a wave of his hand and then held it up as the couple protested, halting their words with a sharp look. Clover mouthed a _thank you_ at him from behind them and apologized to the family as he extricated himself from their clutches.

Qrow sauntered away from the mingling groups as fast as he could without appearing too rushed, Clover right on his heels. He guided them towards one of the lower tables at the edge of the ballroom, off to the side and away from the people resting their feet after dancing.

Qrow put his drink down and folded his arms as he leaned back against the table. Clover did the same next to him, hands spreading out to grip the edge of the tabletop.

“ _Special Operative Ebi_?” Clover turned toward him in amusement. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use my full title before. Or anyone’s for that matter. Should I be worried?”

Qrow shrugged, “Nah, just needed an excuse to pull you out. Figured that sounding all proper and claiming it was huntsman business was the easiest way to go.”

“Heartwarming inter-kingdom cooperation,” Clover said, eyes crinkling at the edges.

Qrow snorted, “Something like that.”

“Well, thanks for the save. People around here can be difficult to shake when they get their minds on an idea. That conversation was getting… uncomfortable, to say the least.”

“I could see that, that girl looked like she was about to explode and you weren’t far behind her,” Qrow said, “What did they want from you so bad, anyway?”

“Her parents wanted me to marry her,” he said, as Qrow took a sip that he promptly spat out, coughing and waving off Clover’s concerned look.

“ _What?_ ”

Clover gave him a look of mock offense, putting a hand on his chest as if he’d been wounded. “So much surprise, Qrow, I’m hurt. What, you don’t think I’d make a good marriage prospect?”

Qrow cursed the flush that spread across his cheeks.

“No, it’s not _that_. I just didn’t realize the Atlesian nobility was that interested in attaching themselves to the military. I thought that was still considered one of the ‘lesser jobs’ around these parts. Besides, if they wanted to climb that ladder, I would think they’d go after James first, no offense.” A little more disgust at the idea had slipped into his tone than he’d intended.

Clover’s smile dimmed and his voice was gentler when he spoke. “You’re right on that. It’s not my rank they’re after, it’s my semblance. Have been ever since it became public when I was at the academy.”

_Oh._

Oh, that made a lot of sense. Qrow wasn’t sure why that hadn’t occurred to him. Of course any family with money in notoriously fickle areas like business or research would jump at the chance to have a blanket guarantee of good luck.

Qrow looked back at Clover who was staring at the floor, scuffing it with the tip of his boot.

“It’s sounds silly to complain about it, I know. Occasionally it can be frustrating, though, to be surrounded by people who are only interested because they want something from you.”

Qrow thought about what Clover’s life was now compared what it could have been if he’d chosen to accept any of the offers. About the way he kept professional distance from others. He thought about year after year of being seen as nothing more than a semblance and no ability to do much about it.

His estimation of the man rose even higher.

“It’s not,” he responded, remembering life in the tribe. “They shouldn’t be judging your entire worth on your semblance. That would be frustrating for anyone.”

The bit of sadness in Clover’s eyes when he met Qrow’s gaze told him that Clover had read between the lines of that statement.

“No one deserves to be judged like that,” Clover agreed, softly. “If I’m being honest, that’s why events like this are my least favorite part of the job.”

Qrow snorted, breaking the tension. “Oh, really? You sure it isn’t fighting monsters and a crazy witch trying to wipe out all life on Remnant?”

Clover laughed. “Well at least with those I can just tie them up with Kingfisher and make sure they don’t bother me again. That might not go so well here.”

“I would pay real money to see you do that.”

Clover tapped his chin, pretending to think about it. “Hm, tempting, but no. I really don’t think I can afford to be fired right now.”

“What if I said I could pay you enough that you wouldn’t need to work another day in your life?” Qrow leaned toward him, smirking as Clover laughed again.

“You certainly drive a hard bargain Branwen, but that’s still a no. I do like my job, unwanted marriage offers aside.”

Qrow rolled his eyes, hiding his amusement. “You Atlas types are no fun. Seriously, you’ve never tried anything to get them off your back?”

Clover paused, coughing uncomfortably into his hand. Qrow’s interest sharpened considerably.

“I may have tried something, once,” Clover said hesitantly. “It didn’t exactly go well.”

“What did you _do_?”

“Well, I was getting overwhelmed with how to handle all the propositions I was getting. I didn’t know how to tell them to stop without having a never-ending amount of awkward conversations, so I may have, ah,” Clover’s shoulders hunched forward slightly, his expression ranging between embarrassed and amused, “I may have grabbed one of my classmates and kissed him in the middle of the dance floor. In my defense, I did ask him first. And I was pretty young, it was only my second year at Atlas Academy.”

There was a beat of silence before Qrow burst into laughter, doubled over imagining the looks on the guests’ faces at a public display of affection in such a formal location. Clover put a hand over his eyes, shaking his head and smiling.

“Yeah, yeah, you laugh now,” he said as Qrow tried to rein himself in. “It was completely mortifying at the time, especially when James had to pull me out to have a chat about the ‘impropriety of kissing a classmate in public when representing the Atlesian military.’ _Not_ one of my best plans.”

Qrow pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, calming down. “Mr. Strategist. And it didn’t even work.”

“No,” Clover said. If Qrow didn’t know any better, he’d say he was pouting. “If anything, they completely missed the point. Now I get twice as many offers, for sons _and_ daughters.”

That set Qrow off again. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed this hard.

“Well,” he said a few moments later, snickering, “that’s-”

“-unfortunate?” Clover interjected, lips twitching before he was laughing as well. Qrow took a moment to admire him, the perfect soldier facade peeled back to show a glimpse of the man underneath. Qrow would be lying if he said the insight didn't appeal to him.

“Maybe I _should_ stick close then. If they’re after your luck, they certainly won’t want mine,” Qrow said, smirking.

“Avoiding awkward situations and having you all to myself? Works for me.”

They relaxed into comfortable silence, their amusement still hanging in the air between them. Qrow turned to look at the dance floor as the quartet picked up the tempo to a Mantlean swing dance when he was struck by an idea.

“So, all these marriage proposals means you were a pretty popular guy at these things,” he said casually. “Ever do any dancing?” He had a suspicion he already knew the answer.

Clover eyed him, wary of his change in tone. “Not much,” he answered slowly. “I was usually either stuck in conversation or doing whatever I could to avoid it. Besides, after years of people trying to be close to me for my semblance, it was easier to just say no rather than try to figure out the motives of whoever was asking.”

“I can understand that,” Qrow said, softening his voice. So he was right, then. “Have you ever wanted to dance?”

“I have,” he said mildly, but the way his eyes locked on Qrow’s was practically a challenge. “I would love to dance, if it was with the right person. Are you asking?”

Silently, Qrow held out a hand.

“You’re serious?” Clover asked, surprise written across his face. Qrow couldn’t blame him, he was fairly surprised at himself. He was feeling unusually bold with Clover tonight, steady in a way he hadn’t been before.

He didn’t budge.

Clover’s smile grew slowly, “Alright then. But I’m not responsible for what happens if you try to dip me.”

Qrow didn’t bother to dignify that with a response, closing his hand around Clover’s as the other man reached out. He wasn’t going to try anything too risky, not with his semblance in the mix. Even with Clover around, he didn’t want to push the limits of his luck.

They walked over to the dance floor, the space between couples much wider now as the ball wound down for the night. The extra room reassured Qrow a little.

The quartet finished up the dance before diving straight into another one, continuing with an upbeat but slightly slower tune. The pairs around them twisted and spun, the more talented dancers in the room taking advantage of the pace to show off their outfits with flairs of fabric. A cursory glance told him that most of the currently dancing couples were from Mantle, most of the politicians having left for the night and the majority of the Atlesians with them.

Qrow stopped on the dance floor and turned to face Clover. He unbuttoned his jacket with a flourish, smirking at Yang’s sharp whistle in response. The twitch of Clover’s lips and the quirk of an eyebrow told him the other man was amused as well.

He gently extracted his fingers from Clover’s, pulling his hand back until Clover’s hand rested in his in a loose grip. Their other hands came up to match.

Qrow took a moment to get the beat in his head, holding Clover’s eyes. He smiled slightly as a signal before he started them off, putting gentle pressure on Clover’s hands to lead him.

Clover followed him easily, as graceful and responsive on the dance floor as the battlefield. They moved back and forth for a bit, Qrow keeping an eye out to prevent any collisions. He could see Yang and Blake out of the corner of his eye, both blushing slightly, their contrasting colors vibrant against the pale floor. Jaune and Ren danced with Nora beyond them, taking turns spinning her around. Ruby and Weiss rushed out to join them, pulling a beaming Penny and a nervous-looking Oscar.

Comfortable with the rhythm, he tugged at Clover with one hand and released the other, spinning him as Clover laughed delightedly before catching his hand again as Qrow pulled him in close. The beat picked up as the song reached its peak and Qrow increased his pace to match it.

Qrow felt his heart speed up as they spun back and forth, their eyes meeting as they crossed the middle. Distantly, he registered Ruby’s encouraging yells, Penny’s delighted laughter and Weiss’s scolding paired with them.

Dance after dance passed by in a blur, all of Qrow’s focus on the warm points of Clover’s hands in his, the easy trust that Qrow wouldn’t steer them wrong.

Eventually the music wound down, the quartet returning to slower melodies as the ball grew to a close. The dance floor was practically open space now, only a handful of couples and his nieces and their friends remaining.

Meeting Clover’s eyes, Qrow brought the two of them to a stop, both panting ever so slightly. Qrow looked over at Yang and Blake next to them who stopped twirling as well. The gold of Yang’s cocktail dress lit up against the dark purple of Blake’s gown.

He stepped away from Clover, letting their hands fall as he sighed softly. “It’s getting pretty late. Probably should take the kids back to their rooms.”

Clover gave him a considering look and turned towards the girls. “Think you guys can find your way back to your rooms okay if I steal Qrow away for a bit longer?”

“I think eight newly certified huntresses and huntsmen and the Protector of Mantle can manage to get back on our own,” Yang said, smirking at Qrow. “Have at him.”

Qrow back and forth between Yang and Clover. “Do I have any say in this?” he asked dryly.

“Nope,” Yang drawled, letting out a _pop_ on the ‘p.’ “Come on Blake, let’s go round up the others. I bet we can find more food around here somewhere.”

Blake giggled as they turned to walk away. “Have good rest of your night,” she called over her shoulder.

Qrow watched them as they rejoined the group, rounding up the others. Pride was a ball of warmth in his chest. Green eyes were bright when he looked back at Clover.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked.

Clover took his hand again, tugging lightly. “Follow me.”

He guided Qrow to the edge of the ballroom, slipping them through a small door hidden in the wall. The door lead to a dark hallway lined with brick, small bulbs in the wall providing the only light. Compared to the airy ballroom outside, the space was small, clearly meant as a service corridor for waiters, caterers, and decorators to slip in and out with ease.

Clover lead them confidently through a small maze of intertwining hallways, weaving left and right until even Qrow’s well-tuned sense of direction lost track of their path. At the end of one of the hallways was a stone staircase that spiraled up the wall. The enclosed space forced Clover to let go of Qrow’s hand as they ascended, and Qrow shivered slightly as he placed it on the cold brick as a guide.

A few floors higher, Clover took his hand again and ducked through another door that let out into a room, nicely sized with high ceilings and doors made of glass gone opaque with age leading to a balcony along one wall. Whenever the room had last seen use, it certainly hadn’t been recent. Outside of an ornately carved metal desk a few feet in front of them and empty bookshelves that spanned the length of the wall they’d emerged from and the one next to it, the room was entirely unfurnished.

Emerging from behind Clover, Qrow walked up to the desk in curiosity. He reached out a finger, a fine layer of dust collecting on top of it as he brushed over the surface. He looked around the room, realizing that behind him was one other piece of decoration he had missed. Displayed proudly behind the desk was a large painting, housed in a frame of gilded wood. The woman in the painting was stately looking, wearing the robes of a headmaster with a stern expression on her face.

“Where are we?” Qrow asked, voice unintentionally hushed as he broke the silence that hung over the room.

“The old headmaster’s office, from back when Atlas was still on the ground. I found it once when I went exploring as a cadet after hours. It hasn’t been used in decades,” Clover said, taking in the sparse contents of the room. “But that’s not why I brought you here.”

He walked over to the glass doors, gently jostling the handle a few times before they fell open with a groan of protest. Qrow followed him through them and sucked in a sharp breath at the sight.

They stood on a small balcony made of dark gray metal that blended with the night sky beyond it. At the edge of the railing, an expansive few of Atlas sprawled before them, the warm orange and brown tones of Mantle and the generators visible below it.

“This is one of my favorite spots in Atlas,” Clover said, and his solid weight was warm where he was pressed up along Qrow’s side, protective against the cold breeze that tousled their hair and sent prickles up his spine. “There aren’t many places here where you can get a view of Mantle. It’s the only one I know of where you can see them both together.”

Clover’s voice softened. “I think, with everything that’s going on, it’s easy to get wrapped up in the big picture and forget the importance of what’s right in front of us.”

Qrow lowered his gaze back down to where Atlas glittered under the light of the shattered moon that sat full in the sky, the lights of Mantle dim beneath the glow but impossible to miss all the same.

Clover was right, he thought with a sense of disquiet. It _would_ be all too easy, from this height, to take the peacefulness of the scene at face value and forget all the suffering happening on the ground.

Although at least with this view Mantle was there, and Atlas would not be able to deny the reality of her sister city.

He cleared his throat to break the silence that had fallen over them. “Well, it’s a good thing Mantle still has some people making sure to look out for them.”

Clover smiled. “They’re very lucky to have such a passionate defender in Robyn.”

Qrow shook his head. “True. But that’s not who I was talking about.”

Clover looked at him, expression open and fond, and Qrow’s thoughts stuttered as he was caught in the soft green of his eyes. Qrow took a half-step toward him, reaching out a hand as his heart bounded in his chest, hoping he wasn’t reading this wrong-

-and stopped short as he was yanked backward, the unexpected resistance causing him to lose his balance as he flailed. Clover’s quick movements were the only thing that saved him from an embarrassing fall, one strong arm sliding around his waist and the other holding onto his shoulder to keep him upright.

Qrow felt himself flush, looking down to see the chain of his jacket caught around one of the carved edges of the balcony’s railing. Damn Atlesians and their need for over-decoration. He cursed his semblance vehemently under his breath, frustrated at the ruined moment.

Clover’s laugh interrupted his tirade. “Hey, hey. Don’t get worked up over it.” He waived the hand on Qrow’s shoulder lightly, toward the space between them, or the lack thereof. “Seems like everything turned out okay from where I’m standing.”

Qrow sighed. “Guess I should be grateful it took this long. Pretty surprised my semblance didn’t screw things up earlier to be honest.”

“How do you know it’s your semblance?” Clover asked with a raise of an eyebrow.

Qrow gave him a flat look. “Almost tripping over my own feet seems like pretty bad luck to me.”

Clover gave him a deliberate look back. He hadn’t loosened his grip. “You think so? I’m not so sure. I’m feeling pretty lucky right now.” Then he had the audacity to _wink_ at him, the bastard.

Qrow’s voice came out low. “Then it would be a shame to pass up on your good fortune, wouldn’t it?” There was an invitation in his words, if Clover wanted to take it.

Clover grinned wider. “I guess it would.”

Their faces had been so close they were almost touching, and Clover barely had to tilt his head before his lips were on Qrow’s, warm and soft. A shiver rolled down along his spine at the contrast between Clover’s warmth along his front and the cool breeze at his back. Qrow’s hands came up to cradle Clover’s jaw as he guided him closer to deepen the kiss.

Behind them, the deep tones of the clock rang out as the moon reached its peak in the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
